If You Deny Me
by Kissravyn
Summary: It features Commodus...with a wife who is not his sister. One woman will have to choose between her Caeser and her God


Disclaimer: Know this, I own nothing. So if you sue me, you will get nothing. It's that simple. I don't own the movie Gladiator, which I recently saw for the first time and loved. If I did, I wouldn't be posting this story. Note that this is alternate universe, so some things are different. Personally, the whole "I want to screw my sister" thing was just a little too much for me, so I gave poor Commodus a wife. Rave or flame, I don't care. I'm not quite sure this story will even get past the first chapter. I have an idea; I'm just a little too lazy. Have fun!!!!  
  
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Commodus pulled his naked body from the sheets that entangled him, leaving his sleeping wife Sabetha alone in bed. The restlessness infected his entire body, down to his very soul, causing him to toss and turn till he had no option but to rise. The cool night air prickled his flesh; goose pimples rose in response. He found his robe still lying on the ground where he had torn it from his body in a rage of heat and passion. His slipped it on his shoulders as absently he wandered to the balcony of the room. It had been a hard day, too hard. The endless meetings with the Senate vexed him so completely that upon the end of the day, he sought out his wife, pouring out his frustrations on her body. As soon as she had answered his summons, he'd shut the door and ripped the robe off her body. His followed quickly and what he wanted to pound out in violence, he pounded out in passion. He stretched slightly, feeling where her nails had dug into his back out of fear. He had frightened her, hurt her too. He raked his hands through his hair and swore. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. For some reason, it pained him to think that while he was making love to her, he'd caused her discomfort and distress. He turned and looked back at her. She was still asleep.  
  
*Good*  
  
He couldn't help standing in awe of her beauty. She never ceased to take his breath away. Her splendor attracted him like a moth to the flame. Finally, he managed to break his eyes away. She looked so calm in her slumber, so at peace with the world. He never slept well. Even as a child, sleep was something that always eluded him. And when he did manage to catch hold of it, it held nothing but nightmares and demons to torment him. Evil phantasms terrorized him in the seemingly endless expanse of darkness. Only when the sun peeked above the horizon did it show to be only a dream. Only a dream. A fleeting moment in his subliminal mind. He heard a slight sigh from behind, and turned to see his wife shift in the bed, nestling herself in deeper. Drawn, he walked over to her, and stood, silent and looming, staring at her.  
  
* I wonder if her dreams torment her also.*  
  
It was doubtful, judging by the serene look on her face that sleep gave her much trouble. She always awoke the next morning, renewed and refreshed, looking beautiful. She inhaled deeply once again, still not waking. Commodus reached down and drew his finger along the silky skin of her cheek, marveling in its softness. He jerked his hand back as she moved again, away from his touch. Always away, never towards. Did his touch repulse her so badly that it she shunned it even in her sleep? He saw the look in her eyes as she read his intentions hours earlier. She dreaded his kiss, his touch. She loathed coming to his bed. She loathed his company. She loathed him. His fists clenched at the thought. He wanted her to desire him. He wanted her knees to buckle and body to melt every time she was in his presence. He wanted her skin to grow heated and flushed every time he touched her. He wanted her to beg and plead with him to make love to her, to come gladly, willingly into his arms, to say his name in a delirium of passion as he moved within her. Most of all, he wanted her to love him as he loved her. To obsess about nothing but him, as he did her. There were times that the very thought of her would send such a heat through his body that not even a douse of ice cold water would cool the burning. There were times he had to have her beneath him, moving with him, or he would go insane. He would do anything, anything, to relieve himself of this insatiable hunger, but nothing worked. He had to have all of her, all, not just her body, but her mind, her heart. He longed to possess her very soul. He smoothed his hand along her hair and leaned down, inhaling her sweet scent, whispering in her sleeping ear,  
  
"I will have you, my beauty. All of you. And I will settle for nothing less."  
  
Should I actually continue? What do you think? Like I said at the beginning, if actually read it, rave or flame if you want. Or if you want to randomly spout opinion, like I frequently do, that's fine too. 


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